A Kyralian Christmas
by Lebkuchenmaedchen
Summary: This is an advent calendar consisting of twenty-four (seasonal) short stories of varying length and with different genres; the main characters being Akkarin, Lorlen and Sonea, but we'll encounter a few others too. A jolly Christmas season to all of you!
1. The Magician

**A Kyralian Christmas** (advent calendar 2017)

 _Hey everybody_ 😊 _Here comes – two days late, shame on me! – this year's Black Magician Trilogy advent calendar. Until the 24_ _th_ _of December, I'll upload a short story each day. As I'm lagging behind a bit, you'll sometimes receive two chapters at once until I've caught up. The characters, pairings, length and genres etc. will vary, but generally, the one-shots centre around Akkarin, Sonea and Lorlen, sometimes also including Dannyl and Tayend, Regin, Ceryni... Some of the stories are, in fact, not one- but two- or even „more"-shots; some being canon, others not._

 _Additional information about each short story (and its possible connection to some of the other stories) can be found in my bio as soon as it has been uploaded._

 _As always, I'm very happy about reviews!_ 😊 ❄

This collection of short stories can also be read in German, link below:

s/12745170/1/Winter-in-Kyralia

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Disclaimer: I own nothing, everything belongs to the wonderful Trudi Canavan!

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 **01\. The Magician**

Sonea was trembling. Winter had already claimed Imardin, but the girl in the shabby brown tunic, which was actually far too flimsy to be worn at that time of the year, followed her friend, who weaved through the crowd determinedly. It was market day in the north quarter and merchants had come even from the more remote surroundings of the capital in order to put their goods up for sale one last time before the snow would render most trade routes impassable for a few months.

But not only Kyralians had gathered at the North Square; there were a number of travellers from Elyne, loudly advertising various cheeses and wine; some dark-skinned pedlars, carefully arranging spices and exotic fruit peculiar to the hot and damp climate in Lonmar; sturdy Vindos selling cured fish and aromatic flatbread and even a few Lans with colourfully painted skin offering dried meat and the finely ground bark of the Gan-Gan bush. Thankful for the welcome distraction from their daily routine and the cold, the outer circle's residents crowded around the stalls and eyed the goods curiously.

No one noticed the two children skilfully threading their way through the assemblage of people. The dark-haired girl, a little smaller than her companion, tugged at the boy's sleeve. „What are you up to?" „I'm getting us lunch." „But you don't have any money!" „It's just bread, that doesn't hurt nobody." The boy came to a stop and turned to look at her. „Jonna says–" „C'mon, Sonea. She doesn't need to know. Besides, I know that you're hungry. Since you've all begun to sleep at this stayhouse, you've got barely enough money to buy food."

While he was speaking, the boy looked around inconspicuously, keeping an eye on an Kyralian market stall whose owner sold flat, dark loaves of bread and various filled dumplings. Then he started to move. Sonea realised what he had in mind and ran after him to prevent him from putting his plan into action. It was true what he had said about her family's financial difficulties, but despite her young age, she knew all too well what happened to thieves in Imardin if they were to be caught. Cery was her friend and she could not allow him to put himself in danger for her, risking to be caught by the city guards.

As long as Cery was leading the way, it had been easy to follow him through the crowd. Now, people were already closing the gap Cery had left behind, making it far more difficult for the scrawny girl to keep up with him. Cery had already approached the Kyralian merchant's stall and was examining the items on display, successfully feigning indifference. Sonea muttered a curse that would have earned her a stern scolding from her aunt and tried to push past the people blocking her way. She was so intent on stopping Cery from putting his plan into action that she was barely aware of her surroundings. There was no snow yet, but it had been raining heavily the day before and the low temperatures had ensured that the water turned into ice overnight.

Sonea had a hard time trying to keep her balance on the slippery ground and skidded rather than walked. Before she knew what was happening, the girl collided with something solid and slipped. To her surprise, the painful impact with the frozen soil did not come. As looked up, Sonea was faced with two dark eyes that regarded her with mild concern. „Are you alright?" The person in front of her had grabbed Sonea's arm quickly, stabilising her just in time. Sonea took a step back and was about to thank them, as she realised just _who_ she had bumped into.

Standing next to her was not one of the dwells, servants or merchants, but a young nobleman, probably in his early twenties. Unlike most of the other residents of the city's outskirts, he appeared to be surprisingly clean and wore a heavy dark cloak made of embroidered fabric. Reacting instinctively, Sonea shook off his hand on her arm and backed away from him. As she did not answer, he took a step forward. „Are you feeling well?" „I– yes. Thanks." „You ought to be more careful, girl. The streets are icy." He was quite obviously from the houses, but he did not sound as condescending as Sonea had expected someone of his social standing to be. Well, at least not overly so. With a start, it crossed her mind that she had forgotten Cery.

She glanced around but did not spot her friend anywhere in her vicinity. „Sorry, I need to go." „Wait." He reached into the pocket of his cloak, extracted a pachi fruit and handed it to her. „Here. You look hungry." Surprised, Sonea accepted the fruit. Why are you doing this?", she blurted involuntarily. Amused, the dark-haired man looked at her. „No reason", he answered, the corner of his mouth curling upwards. Before Sonea could reply, she heard her friend's voice calling out for her from somewhere in the crowd. „Hai, Sonea!" „I'm sorry, I really need to go now." „Take care, girl." Sonea nodded and took a few steps toward the direction from which the call had come. Then, she paused and turned around once more in order to thank the man, but he was gone.

Sonea struggled to move forward in the crowd but Cery was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, she was grabbed and pulled into the entrance of a house. „Cery! Where have you been?" „While you've had a nice little chat, I got us something to eat." „ _Stole_ it, you mean." „Oh, come on, Sonea. It's just a piece of bread. Make an exception, just once. After all, today is the day of the Winter's Feast." Sonea sighed. „Well, I guess it is too late to return it." Cery broke into a grin, took her hand and pulled her down with him onto a low stone wall, just wide enough to sit on.

He broke the small loaf of bread in two and handed her one of the pieces. „By the way, what did the magician want from you?" „The… magician?" Sonea frowned bemused. „Yes. The man you were talking to, remember?", answered Cery. „That was a magician?" „Yeah, didn't you notice what he was wearing?", the boy asked with surprise. „His coat wasn't _that_ special", replied Sonea with a shrug. „The guild's incal was sewn into its collar", Cery announced. „How come you know what it looks like?" Cery merely grinned. „I have my sources." „Nevermind, master thief", the girl teased him and hungrily took a bite from her half of the bread. „Let's eat, lest the merchant catches us with it."

Then she remembered something. She stuck her hand into her pocket and removed the pachi fruit. Impressed, Cery raised an eyebrow. „Not bad. I underestimated you." „I didn't steal it! What do you take me for? The… magician gave it to me", retorted Sonea indignantly. „Well then, what are we waiting for? Looks like we'll have a feast today after all." Sonea smiled and put her arm around her friend's shoulders. "Indeed."

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 _The next story will feature young Lorlen and Akkarin_ 😊


	2. The Friend

_And here comes story number 2 - enjoy._

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 **02\. A Friend**

„Stop plucking at it. Such behaviour is unseemly for someone of your standing", the stern voice of Duenja, who he shared a carriage with, said. Lorlen forced himself to temporarily release the frills adorning his shirt and interlaced his shaking fingers on his lap, fidgeting on his seat. „Remember what you have been told. Stand upright, do _not_ fidget and speak clearly and politely. It is of the utmost importance that you make a good impression. Surely, you do not wish to bring your House's name into disrepute", admonished the grey-haired woman. Lorlen nodded absently and as the carriage jolted over an unevenness of the ground, he turned his head to look out of the window.

In front of him, the extensive grounds and intricately ornamented buildings of the magicians' guild were gradually appearing out of the mist that wreathed Imardin this morning. „What a dreadful weather", muttered Duenja with such indignance as if she perceived the meteorological conditions as a personal affront to the noble House Parin. Lorlen, on the other hand, did not mind the cold and damp weather. If he was being honest, he had to admit that he was somewhat glad about the fog which would surely prevent the usual crowd of relatives from gathering in front of the guild hall.

He was right. Today, the carriages merely stopped briefly in the courtyard and its passengers quickly proceeded to enter the guild hall. Relieved that he was able to evade the prying and sometimes disdainful glances of the other families a while longer, he smoothed down his dark trousers and stood to step out of the carriage. Duenja, who had been his nursery maid for thirteen years, bade him farewell with a last dunning glance, then she was gone. Lorlen took a deep breath and moved towards the high gate leading to the guild hall. Suddenly, he wished his family had taken the same carriage he had, so as to avoid being faced with the attention, which undoubtedly awaited all new novices entering this building for the first time, on his own.

His mother however had not deemed this appropriate, considering it necessary to demonstrate that his family was wealthy enough to afford two carriages. As he began to feel cold in his showy garments, he had no other choice than setting foot into the building. Lorlen involuntarily blinked a few times after the doors had closed behind him. Whereas it had been cold, silent and hazy outside, the ample room he had just entered was filled with warmth and reverberated with conversations. The antechamber he found himself in was illuminated by numerous magical spheres, floating just below the ceiling and shining their light on the dozens of people below.

He spotted about twenty girls and boys appearing to be around the same age as himself that stood among their families. All of them were clothed magnificently in order to demonstrate their families' wealth, their parents clearly hoping to enhance their prestige not only among the other families in their own House, but also in the eyes of the other Houses. Some mothers had tried so hard to attire their offspring as extravagant and costly as possible that they looked downright comical. As Lorlen had come in, some of the nobles had turned and surveyed him briefly, but as he was one of the last to arrive, to his relief most of the attention was already directed at the opening double doors he assumed lead into the assembly hall.

Lorlen scanned the confluence for his mother and sister but did not spot them anywhere. Therefore, he followed the mass of people and tried to conceal his increasing discomfort. Suddenly, the crowd before him parted; the families ascending a few steps to the empty seats in the lower ranks and the soon-to-be novices of the winter intake proceeding in a line to the centre of the guild hall, all eyes upon them. To Lorlens horror, the hall was almost full. While the families had seated themselves in the lower tiers, countless figures clad in red, green and purple robes sat above them. At the very top, many feet away from him, Lorlen spotted an accumulation of approximately twelve seats, arranged in a triangular shape and separated from the other magicians by an empty row.

The magicians up there seemed to wear different robes, but Lorlen was unable to discern more details from his position in the centre of the hall. All of a sudden, a magician in the highest tiers stood up and stepped forward, his dark blue robe fluttering as he rose his hands, and the conversations fell silent. „Lords and ladies of the magicians' guild, representatives of the Houses, prospective novices. It is a pleasure to welcome you all to this winter term's acceptance of novices…" The elderly magician gave a short speech during which Lorlen took to observing his fellow soon-to-be class mates, wondering whether or not he would become friends with some of them.

To his left stood a lean Elyne girl with ginger hair who twirled her long braid between her fingers and did not deign to look at Lorlen; to his right were a stout boy with tanned skin and bright green eyes, whose clothing bespoke of his Vindo parentage, and a tall Kyralian girl with brown hair, whose headdress was so enormous that a big purple feather covered nearly half of her face. Disappointed, Lorlen turned back to the front of the hall. None had appeared particularly amicable. „…come forward, one at a time. Drina of the family Genard!" The girl to Lorlens left took a few, timid steps to the front and spoke the words of her Novice's Vow with a thin voice.

Lorlen tensed and began to recite the words he had spent the whole summer memorising one last time in his mind. „Karamo of the family Temo, part of the Naval Builders Guild!" The boy to his right stepped forward. More than half of the novices had already taken their vows and the line had thinned out considerably. After "Lia, family Laren, House Sorrel" and "Neverin, family Vorin, House Tellen", there was, except for him, only one other novice left. He had dark hair and unlike some of the others he appeared to be entirely unfazed by the ceremony. „Come forward, Akkarin of the family Delvon, House Velan!"

The boy – he seemed to be the same age as Lorlen, maybe one or two years older – took a few calm steps forward and accepted, after having spoken the words of his vow with a steady voice, his new brown novice's robes. Lorlen watched him impressed. None of the other novices had managed to speak their vow as composed and confident as this boy. „Lorlen, family Agyll, House Parin." He took a calming breath and hid his shaking hands in the opulent ruffles of the embroidered shirt he had been forced to wear, and started to speak the binding words of his Novice's Vow. As he was done and held the soft fabric of the short brown robes in his hands, he was overcome by a great sense of relief. The worst was over and now years of studying magic awaited him, he could hardly imagine anything more exciting.

Not only would he be able to do something he actually wanted to, he had also managed to avoid an arranged marriage and had escaped his House's and family's arbitrariness. He walked to the guild hall's exit where the families bade their sons and daughters farewell, growing more buoyant with each step. His mother, uncle and sister disengaged from the crowd and approached him. The petite woman he had inherited his light brown hair from patted his shoulder briefly and rearranged his shirt. „You will spend the winter holidays at home, of course. A carriage will be waiting for you." His sister hugged him tightly, earning her a reprimanding look from their mother – „Not in public, Coriana!" – and his uncle gave him a short nod, then they were gone.

Unsure of what to do next, Lorlen followed a bunch of the other novices heading across the foggy grounds of the guild towards the Novices' Quarters. Amongst them was the girl with the large feather – Lia, he remembered – and the boy from the islands. As he caught up to them, he heard what they were talking about. They were introducing themselves, but this happened in quite a different manner than he had expected. „…House Tellen? How interesting you have been accepted into the guild. After all, your House is not exactly known for its great magical potential, is it?" The boy addressed blushed and lowered his head. Abruptly, the girl who had spoken turned to look at Lorlen. „And you are?" „My Name is Lorlen", he replied, startled. „Not your name, silly. House? Family?"

Lorlen's heart sank. „I am from House Parin, family… Agyll." He had only hesitated for the fraction of a second, but a triumphant gleam in Lia's eyes told him she had noticed. He knew immediately that he had made a mistake. „Really? Well, well. Parin, an reputable House, no doubt. But the family – well, let me put it this way: You did not exactly deck yourself in glory lately, did you? Correct me if I am wrong, but didn't your brother elope with a _dwell_? By the way, when, precisely, was your father repudiated? Before or after he deserted?" The other novices burst out laughing.

Among them, Lorlen spotted the boy Lia had made fun of beforehand; he, too, laughed gleefully. He was visibly glad she had directed her attention somewhere else. Lorlen wished for the earth to open up and swallow him. He did not know how to respond, not to mention that he had a hunch she would not care for a reply anyway. Lorlen decided it would be best to ignore her and tried to push past the boys and girls forming a circle around him and Lia, but the novices did not budge. „What's the hurry? Are you–" Die Kyralian girl was interrupted before she could finish her sentence.

„Tut-tut, Lia. We would not want to make hasty judgements, would we? After all, was it not this that caused your uncle's fall from the king's favour?" The voice of the newcomer sounded playful, but it was tinged with a cutting undertone. Lorlen found him to be the novice who had been remarkably unfazed by the acceptance ceremony. „If I were you, I would think very carefully about where my allegiance lies", the girl hissed, „Your house's name won't always be enough to protect you." „Oh, do not worry, Lia, I am perfectly able to protect myself." The air around the dark-haired boy started to shimmer and a small, flaming sphere appeared. It moved towards the small group of novices and paused at their eye level. The novices turned pale and shrunk back. As one of them turned hastily and fled, the others followed suit.

As Lia realised she had lost, she threw Lorlen and the boy standing next to him a last scornful look and disappeared into the same direction the others had gone. The ball of magical fire followed her for a few heartbeats, then it disappeared. „You can already control your magic?", Lorlen asked the boy astonished. „Well, to be honest, I cannot do much more than that. But she did not have to know that, did she?", he admitted with a shrug. Lorlen gazed at him briefly, then he began to grin broadly. „I am Lorlen." „Akkarin", the other novice replied and held out his hand. „Pleased to meet you."

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I made _a lot_ of christmas biscuits this weekend - I think my flat may have never before smelled that delicious!

By the way, thank you for your feedback, dear anonymous reviewer! Reviews always make me happy and encourage me to keep going :-)


	3. The Slave

May I present chapter number 3.

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 **03\. The Slave**

The heat was overwhelming. Surprisingly, the seasons were amongst the things he missed most about Kyralia. At first he did not notice it – he had been far too occupied with railing against his fate, but after almost four years in Sachaka the days and weeks seemed to blend into each other, resulting in a single, unbearably long summer. The wastelands' normal amount of precipitation equalled that of hell itself and each day was like the previous. It was hard to keep track of the time that had passed, but he had to try nonetheless. He needed something to hold on to in order for him not to lose his mind.

He had given up on trying to escape eventually after none of his attempts had been successful. Besides, he suspected Dakova took a perverse delight in punishing him for his insubordination; a satisfaction he did not want to give this man any longer. The Ichani was not physically present this evening, but this did not change anything. Without his magic – and Dakova always made sure he had none left – he wouldn't be able to go far. Not far enough, at least. A camel train appeared on the top of the huge sand dune at the foot of which they had pitched up their tents. The dark, greyish skin and the clothes that had been dyed in various shades of red told Akkarin that they came from Duna. Merchants.

Together with the rest of Dakova's slaves he approached the carts to unload them at the foreign traders' behest. While they took the bags full of doubtlessly expensive spices and gems to some of the smaller the tents, Akkarin eavesdropped on the travellers' conversation. They spoke a dialect he was not familiar with, but it was not entirely unlike the Sachakan language, so he was able to pick up one or two things. He learned that they were on their way to Lonmar after traversing Elyne and Kyralia. As he heard his home country's name his heart missed a beat. One of the men complained about the weather in Kyralia, which he was neither used to or prepared for. Apparently, they had been caught off guard by the heavy snowfall and had to roam the country in wet clothes for a few days. _Snow? That means it is currently winter. I wonder…_

Akkarin drew even closer to the merchants so as to understand them better and learned that their journey had been a profitable one. If he understood them correctly, they had made more money than usual as the people in Elyne and Kyralia were celebrating some kind of festivity the Duna were unable to pronounce the name of. _The Winter's Feast!_ He was overcome with a sudden wave of wistfulness. Winter had always been his favourite time of the year; he liked the cold and the snow. Before he could do anything about it, memories he had been trying to suppress rose to the surface.

Back in the days, when the Winter's Feast was just around the corner, he had been sneaking spiced wine from the guild's kitchens and inciting snowball fights with the other novices. _Lorlen…_ He wondered how his best friend spent these days now with him gone. When Akkarin had still been in Imardin, they had celebrated together with a bottle of wine and some holiday pies and treats, talking and playing Kyrima, as Lorlen downright refused to spend the day of the Winter's Feast at home with his family leaving Akkarin behind. Nowadays, Akkarin deemed it very likely that Lorlen had taken to spending this day in the Healers' Quarters to distract himself by volunteering for the most unpopular shift of the year.

He sighed. It was unwise to indulge in reminiscences, it only made him more susceptible to Dakovas taunts and cruelties. And this was the one thing he absolutely could not allow if he wanted to survive his captivity.

As the day's searing heat finally gave way to the freezing temperatures characteristic for desert nights, Akkarin wearily sat down on the reddish-brown sand that had stored the sun's warmth and looked at the sky. Due to a lack of settlements, in this part of Sachaka the nights were so dark that one could see the stars much clearer than anywhere else he had been to before. Still, it were the same stars he had seen from his room in the Magicians' Guild. He thought it surreal and somehow wrong that the night sky here was the same people saw in Imardin when they raised their heads at night-time. _Home_.

At the moment, no place seemed more out of reach and nowhere else he would rather be. He missed everything about Imardin: the lush vegetation, the refined cooking, the (frequently cursed about) rainy and foggy weather, the melodic language he had not heard for a far too long time – even Lord Ahlor, the Novices' Quarter's morose keeper, and the malicious, humourless Lord Margen appeared, compared to Dakova, almost pleasant. Akkarin snorted. Never in a thousand years would he have expected himself to miss the monster. Should he ever find a way home _this_ would certainly be amongst the things he would not tell Lorlen about.

If what the merchants had said was true and he was not miscalculating, the Winter's Feast was today. That meant that throughout Imardin, families and friends would gather to eat and celebrate together. For the novices and magicians that preferred or needed to stay within the premises of the guild during the holidays, the servants prepared a delicious meal Akkarin remembered all too well. Additionally, most of the magicians turned a blind eye to all kinds of mischief, which meant that this was the perfect opportunity to engage all kinds of forbidden activities. Consequently, he and Lorlen had, more often than not, gotten away with a variety of amusing shenanigans on the day of the Winter's feast.

Akkarin grimaced. He was positive his best friend was worried sick about him. Fortunately, his duties as a healer prevented him from searching for Akkarin himself and being killed or taken a prisoner by the Ichani as well. He almost hoped Lorlen had accepted his apparent death as he had not answered his friend's incessant calling two and a half years ago. This way, he would be able to put the past behind him and would not be haunted by the question of what had happened to his friend that had not returned from his journey.

Akkarin's juvenile recklessness and curiosity had cost him dearly and he deeply regretted ever having crossed the Sachakan border. The only thought that, despite all the physical and mental pain Dakova subjected him to, kept him still alive was the vague hope of one day crossing that damned border again. Akkarin felt a sudden, reckless urge to draw the Magicians' Guild's Incal in the dune's sand and, hesitatingly, did so. He knew that if Dakova saw this memory in his mind tomorrow morning, he would pay for it dearly, but in this moment he did not care. He missed his best friend and his home more than ever. Akkarin looked up to the night sky one last time and realised the eye was closed almost all the way, only to be seen as a narrow, silver crescent.

If one believed in ancient Kyralian legends, this meant that his small act of renitency would go unnoticed. Akkarin decided this was a good omen. It was that exact moment in which he swore to himself he would see his home again one day, no matter what it took.

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The next story will be set in Soneas past. Have a nice day :-)


	4. The Dwell

Sadly, I was not able to continue this story last year. However, as I have all the chapters finished and am under less real-world stress this time around, here is one-shot number four; so please read (and review, if possible). I am always happy to see that people add my stories to their favourites or alert lists, but it would be even more helpful to me if you left me a review – it doesn't need to be a long one, just tell me honestly what you like and/or what you don't, and let me know if there's anything you'd want me to do differently. Don't worry, I won't bite… much. ;-)

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 **04\. The Dwell**

The woman was walking slowly, every few steps she had to pause in order to support herself against the wall of one of the buildings she was passing by. The deep snow and the darkness hindered her further; her worn dress was soaked through up to her thighs and she obviously had a hard time forcing her way through the damp snow.

She came to a halt as she reached a small, crooked hut and knocked. After some shuffling inside, the door was opened a tiny crack and a little boy with ruffled hair warily looked at her with his big brown eyes. The woman supported herself against the hut's stone wall and forced a smile between her heavy breaths. „Hello, little one. Is your father home?"

„Ilia! Why on earth did you walk all this way up to our cot in this goddam' weather?" A man of stocky build with sand-coloured hair appeared behind the child in the doorframe and gently shoved him back in. „Go back to your sister, Ceryni." He opened the door further and invited her in. „Don't tell me Kergan hasn't come home again", he said as he saw the troubled on her face. „It's not him. The baby… it won't be long now." Ilia placed a hand on her distinctly rounded womb and grimaced. „Something's strange, it's too early. I didn't know where else to go." Torrin scratched his head awkwardly. „What do you expect me to do, Ilia? I'm no herb-wife, I've got no idea how to … do such things", he said and pointed in the general direction of her stomach.

The young woman brushed some offending strands of her dark hair from her forehead on which beads of sweat had gathered despite the biting cold. She looked at him pleadingly. „I know. But you have connections to the thieves. I thought that maybe- " Torrin snorted and cut her off bitterly. „If you're looking for someone to get you some iker spiked bol or if you want to hire a knife, anytime. But last time I checked there were no leechs* among my clients, Ilia. Besides, someone like you really shouldn't get mixed up with the thieves. You'd regret it, believe me. They're like jebbas**, once they've got you, you never get away from them again."

At the sight of her dejected look he added: „Isn't there an old woman in the north quarter that can help in such cases?" Ilia shifted and shakily pressed her cold fingers on her feverishly warm cheeks. „I've already been there. Kergan… he must have angered her. She turned me down." Torrin cursed. „That good-for-nothing sheepshead. What was it this time? Did he steal from her too?" „He isn't-" Ilia winced and stopped speaking. She pressed her palms on her swollen stomach and gasped. Torrin eyed her with concern and reached out his hand to stabilise her, but she declined. Panting, she straightened herself and stroked her womb in circular movements.

For a few moments, the man glanced at the frail young woman before him helplessly. He opened his mouth and hesitated. Torrin appeared to be fighting an inner battle, before he eventually sighed and said: „There is… somebody who might be able to help you. But I doubt he will. He is not exactly known for his kindness. And he won't do it for free." „Thank you, Torrin." „Don't thank me yet. Are you sure you want that?" „Yes. I don't have a choice. Let's go." Torrin glanced at the pregnant woman doubtfully but she raised her chin determinedly and indicated him to lead the way. „Very well. But there is something else you need to know about him."

The room was dark and the air stale, but Ilia stepped forward unflinchingly. She had slept in worse shacks. „What do you want, girl?" The voice sounded annoyed, but Ilia ignored his unwelcoming reception and laid a hand on her aching womb. „I've been told you might be able to help me. My name is-" „Your name is of no relevance to me. Do I look like a midwife? I cannot help you and neither can I help your brat." He stood and Ilia was barely able to distinguish a short beard and bushy grey eyebrows, the only source of light being a single, flickering candle on the shelf. „Please, I… there is something wrong with my child, I _need_ your help", she said in a strained voice.

The wiry man crossed his arms and regarded her less than favourably. „What makes you think I could help you?" „I know that you… that you can do certain things. You're one of _them_." The young woman vaguely gestured at his clothing and glanced at him suspiciously. The man sneered. „Not anymore, as you can see." Another surge of pain went through Ilia's body, but this time she barely noticed, as she was struck by an idea. A desperate one, but it was a chance. „Why do you need to hide in here if you're a magician?" The man surly raised a single brow. „Who says I am hiding?" „I have trouble believing someone like you would voluntarily stay in this … _here,_ if they had a choice."

„Do you? Lucky me then that a dwell girl's opinion is of no relevance _here_." Ilia squared her shoulders despite the fact that the dragging pain in her lower abdomen was getting stronger. „Maybe not, but I wonder whether some of the other magicians would be interested in your whereabouts?" The man, whose lanky body looked strangely out of place in the simple clothing he wore, froze. For the blink of an eye, nobody said a word. Then the former magician started to laugh. Ilia had expected everything but being laughed at.

„If I were as powerful as you seem to believe, what do you think would I do to someone threatening to expose me?", the man asked her, amused. Ilia hesitated. She had expected ire, or worry. Not mockery. But instead of getting angry, he regarded her with an indeterminable look on his face. „It requires a great amount of courage to threaten a magician. Courage or foolishness." Ilia shrugged. „It's none of my business who you are or what you're doing here and I don't care. I just want to save my child." Ilia put her hand in the pocket of her woollen cloak and pulled out a necklace with a small, glistening pendant. „I can pay you."

The man examined the dark gemstone curiously. Then he sighed. „Even if I were willing to help you…I am no healer. I am afraid I would do you more harm than good", he frowned. „You couldn't make it much worse than it already i-" With a pained gasp the woman slumped to the ground and clutched her womb. The magician cursed and hesitated.

* * *

As the cries of pain emitting from the chamber finally subsided, the sun was beginning to rise. The magician looked slightly green as he left the small room in Imardin's underground. Horrified, he inspected his left sleeve, catching sight of some dark red stains. No, indeed, he'd never had a particular talent for healing. What a relief it had been no longer being forced to live in accordance with the guild's confining, close-minded principles. Last night had brought back some unpleasant memories. But the damage was already done. He could only hope that nobody would link an elder, reclusive man from the slums to the unfortunate, late Lord Senfel. He was not keen on having his powers bound.

Sighing, he went back into the room and watched the young woman lying amidst bloodstained sheets on a makeshift cot, holding a small bundle against her chest. As she heard him enter, she raised her head. She looked exhausted, but she smiled. „Don't worry. I won't say anything. You helped me and my child. I owe you." She reached into her pocket and held the necklace out to him. Senfel, however, declined. „Keep it. You will be in need of it soon enough." She looked at him in surprise. „Thank you."

„Do not thank me. Just never ask me to be present at a birth again.", the man snorted half in jest, half seriously. Ilia giggled. „I can't promise you that. It would be unfair to have her grow up without any siblings." The magician raised his hands in mock defence and went to the door. Before leaving, he turned and looked back at her. „What will you call her?" Ilia placed a kiss on her daughter's tiny forehead and smiled. „After her grandmother. Sonea."

* * *

The next story won't date back as far as this one. Well, at least not that far 😉

* leech, I discovered, is apparently an archaic word for healer. I thought it more fitting than the term „healer" itself as I wanted to make a distinction between the magicians' guild healers and the kind of medieval healers known as barber surgeons (which I imagine is the best someone in the slums like Ilia can hope for) I am referring to here.

** large sea creatures with multiple appendages, endemic to the Vin Islands


	5. The Rival

Here's my take on Lorlen's remark that they had been competing with each other occasionally during their time as novices and that the women always preferred Akkarin 😉

Thank you, **dee** and **Glass-FeatherX** , for leaving me a review. Glad to hear you both liked the new chapter! I will continue updating. 😊

* * *

 **05\. The Rival**

Lorlen ignored the small, crumpled piece of paper that had already been floating next to his left hand for full ten minutes - nudging him at regular intervals - and stubbornly stared straight ahead to the front of the classroom, where Lord Margen was explaining a complex alchemistic construction with a sour expression on his wrinkled face. He held his quill in a death grip and scowled while taking notes. From behind him came the rustling of robes caused by a body being shifted, and shortly after he felt a soft touch at the back of his head.

He flinched and turned slightly, spotting yet _another_ ball of paper, bigger than the first, that had started to bump against the back of his head. Annoyed, he narrowed his eyes and both offending pellets burned to ashes in a matter of seconds, their sad remains plummeting to the floor. Satisfied, Lorlen turned back to his notes. From somewhere behind his back came a sigh, which Lorlen pretended not to hear. As the sun shining through the classroom's windows was approaching its zenith Lord Margen reluctantly dismissed his students. Lorlen grabbed his belongings, stuffed them carelessly into his satchel (earning himself a reproving look from the old alchemist) and left the room in a hurry.

As he had almost reached the end of the corridor leading to the dining hall, he heard steps echoing behind him. Cursing under his breath, he took a few unexpected turns, used a secret passageway behind the portrait of a grumpy looking old warrior and hurried down a flight of winding stairs, discarding his original plan to grab a quick bite before the afternoon classes would start. After a few minutes he found himself in the university's deserted basement where unused alchemy laboratories and storage rooms were located. After making sure he was alone, he paused to catch his breath and then continued on his way at a more moderate pace.

Trying not to think of the recent events, he busied himself with repeating what Lord Garen had taught them this morning about curing diseases affecting the skin. His attention diverted, he did not at all expect what was awaiting him when he absentmindedly turned around another corner. He froze as he caught sight of a black-haired novice leaning against the wall leaned with arms crossed. The teenager directed a wry smile at him and said: „You did not honestly expect you'd be able to shake me off, did you? After all, I was the one that showed you these passageways and shortcuts in the first place". Lorlen merely shrugged, avoiding his gaze. He started walking again and left his fellow novice standing in the otherwise empty hallway. Unimpressed, the boy caught up and fell into step with him. Lorlen pretended not to notice and walked without acknowledging the other's presence.

„For how long, exactly, are you planning on pretending that I do not exist?" Lorlen sighed and decided that the other would not leave him be until he had received an answer. „As long as I feel like it". Disgruntled, he pushed open the double doors to the gardens, not caring if it hit his unwelcome companion in the head. „Why are you so upset?" So it hadn't. Pity. „Are you serious? Venture a guess, Akkarin. You're a clever one, I'm sure you will figure it out eventually". The gardens were covered by a thick, glistening blanket of snow but Lorlen was not in the mood to appreciate its beauty.

„I already apologised, what else do you want to hear?" „Sometimes apologies aren't enough, you know. The other novices might fall for your charms but that does not mean I will". Angrily, he tried to renew his attempts to rid himself of his friend's company. Unfortunately, Lorlen's legs were slightly shorter than Akkarin's, which meant it was easier for the other boy to push his way through the knee-deep snow. „So what are going to do now? Trying to ignore me until the end of our time as novices?" Lorlen threw a side glance at Akkarin, discovering to his indignation that he simply melted the snow where he was treading which enabled him to walk effortlessly. Lorlen hadn't thought of that. „Who said anything about stopping to ignore you after we cease to be novices?"

Lorlen could have sworn that the corners of Akkarin's mouth had twitched. Then he took a deep breath. „Look, Lorlen, I really _am_ sorry. I just did not think–" „That's exactly the point, Akkarin. You don't _think_. You never do. And you hurt people in the process". For the first time since they had started talking, Akkarin looked genuinely rueful. He laid a hand on Lorlens arm, bring both of them to a stand. „I honestly did not mean to offend you. What can I do to make you forgive me?" „For a start, you could stop sleeping with girls I am trying to court. I'd appreciate that". Akkarin muttered something that sounded suspiciously like _You can't blame me for being irresistible_ , but fortunately for him, he had spoken so softly that Lorlen was not sure. „Noted", Akkarin added, louder this time.

„But, you know, a relationship between the two of you would not have worked anyway, you know. If she succumbed to my courtship so easily although you had been expressing your interest in her already, she either just wanted affection and did not care where it came from, or she used you to get close to me". Lorlens jaw dropped. „You– while you're _may_ be right – _stop looking so smug, Akkarin!_ – that's utterly beside the point!" Akkarin opened his mouth to reply, but Lorlen interrupted him by raising his hand. He hesitated. „Never mind. Just– just don't do something like this again. Girls are falling for you by the dozen anyway, so please exercise some restraint for once if one of them is interested in me".

Akkarin nodded. „Agreed". Then he added: „Don't worry. I've got an idea how to make it up to you". Lorlen threw him a worried glance. When Akkarin had this look on his face, things did not end well. Usually, _both_ of them were showered with lectures, extra exercises, forced library service or curfew. Lorlen groaned. „What are you up to?" Akkarin just smiled and dismissed him. „You'll see". He started walking, then he paused, turned back and looked at his friend. „I'll meet you later in Warrior Skills, there is something I need to do first".

* * *

Exhausted, Lorlen stretched his aching muscles and trotted slowly in the general direction of the Novices' Quarters. As usual, warrior training had cost him a lot of energy, but he had been pleased to discover that he had more magic left than he would a few month ago. That meant his powers were growing. Akkarin still defeated him most of the times they fought, but that was also accounted for by the fact that Warrior Skills were his favourite discipline, while Lorlen preferred Healing. He had forgiven his friend, of course he had. Much to his chagrin he never managed to stay angry at Akkarin for a prolonged period of time.

As if the other boy had read his thoughts, he caught up with Lorlen, slung his arm loosely around his friend's shoulders and steered the protesting novice in a different direction. „Where are you taking me?" The dark-haired boy grinned. „You'll see". „But I was just about to go to dinner after dropping off my books at the Novices' Quarters", Lorlen complained. As if to agree with him, his stomach rumbled. Akkarin laughed and pulled Lorlen to the snow-covered trees of the adjacent forest. Lorlen gave up questioning Akkarin as he knew his friend well enough to know that he would not tell him anything more than he already had.

Their surroundings started to look vaguely familiar to Lorlen and he had just opened his mouth to speak as they stepped onto a clearing. As Lorlen had begun to suspect, Akkarin had led him to the spring, but something was different. Despite the fact that it was in the middle of winter, the grass was devoid of snow and instead of the biting cold, they were suddenly engulfed by a comfortable warmth. Lorlen glanced around in wonder and realised he stood under a sizeable magical shield covering half of the clearing. Next to the rock where they hid their board game, there were several plates filled with pies, meat in a dark sauce, candied dell and pachi, and a variety of sweets.

„…of course, if you would prefer to eat in the dining hall, we could always…", came Akkarins smug voice from somewhere behind Lorlen. „Shut up", Lorlen mumbled and elbowed Akkarin, then he sat down on the ground and eyed the food longingly. „Well, what are you waiting for? Don't let it go to waste. That would be a shame after the lengths I had to go to acquire it". Lorlen raised his hands in defence. „Don't tell me. I don't want to know". He popped a piece of chocolate-covered fruit in his mouth and sighed appreciatively. „They do not serve that in the novices' dining hall", Lorlen said. „No, they do not", Akkarin agreed, grinning.

* * *

Lorlen was woken by an uncomfortable sensation. Something was poking in his back. Groaning, he sat up and removed the offending object. To his surprise, he discovered it to be a fork that had apparently somehow found its way into his bed. _Wait a moment_. Lorlen blinked the sleep out of his eyes and realised that he was definitely not lying in his bed, for he was more than certain it was not covered in grass and leaves. _The spring!_ They must have accidentally fallen asleep after having devoured the small feast Akkarin had provided.

As if to confirm his line of thought, he heard a rustle to his left and turned around to see a dishevelled dark-haired novice sitting up, unhappily rubbing his head. „I slept on a stone", he declared surly. „Well, at least that's better than sleeping on a fork". Akkarin snorted and stood. „I wouldn't know". All of a sudden, Lorlen froze mid-air while collecting the now empty plates. „We missed classes! Oh, no…" Hastily, he tried to smoothen his hair and robes and braced himself for running all the way to the university building. A hand grabbed his arm and prevented him from moving forward. „ _What?_ ", Lorlen asked impatiently. „Calm down, Lorlen, it's a freeday".

Lorlen released the breath he had not realised he'd been holding and watched Akkarin putting the board game back into its hiding place and dissolving the shield covering the clearing. „Let's go back". They had not talked about their argument again and Lorlen did not want to hold a grudge any longer. After all, the other novice had tried to make it up to him. Still… As Akkarin left the clearing and Lorlen followed suit, an idea formed in his head. True, Akkarin _had_ apologised, but Lorlen decided that a little revenge would not hurt his best friend. The other novice did not see it coming. The icy, wet ball hit Akkarin straight in the face.

* * *

The next story will feature Akkarin and Sonea 😊


	6. The Adventurer

Here's part number 6, it's canon until the end of book three (it is based on a different ending though).

* * *

 **06\. The Adventurer**

„Nyna! Stop daydreaming and pitch in!" The girl winced and hurriedly grabbed one of the baskets on the cart. Then she followed her mother and elder sisters' example and began stacking the goods on their stall's counter. Candied pachis joined sugar apples, spiced cakes, marin liquor, kepi pastry, sweet mead and curem biscuits. It had taken them weeks to bake and bottle and they did so with great care to have products of such a good quality that they received the permission to sell them in the Inner Circle this winter.

For an artisan family of little wealth and even less connections, this was a huge success. If they now presented their products in a way that appealed to potential customers, sales beyond everything they could have ever hoped for in the Outer Circle would await them. Although Imardin was bursting with market stalls and travelling artists during the time of the Winter's Feast, it was a privilege to sell one's goods in the Inner Circle. There, the customers mostly consisted of members of the Houses and some magicians, whose demands and preferences were above those of the bourgeoisie, let alone dwells.

It was still rather early in the morning, so except for a few servants bustling about there weren't many people up and about. The sun would be high in the winter sky before the Inner Circle's streets would be filled with a hustle and bustle of well-off travellers and nobles. Nyna's family took advantage of this by taking their time arranging the wares with care order to attract as many customers as possible.

Nyna enjoyed days like this, because as soon as everything was at its proper place, adjusted and polished, she was allowed to wander about the town's streets and inspect the other market stalls where a large number of local and exotic delicacies waited to be discovered. But the one thing she always looked forward to most was observing the other merchants. Some had a skin so dark it seemed to be almost bluish black, and eyes of gold and warm browns. Nyna did not know where they came from, but she had learned that most of them sold expensive spices in tiny pouches, shiny cloth or precious metal.

From time to time, there were people with fair complexion and hair between the Kyralian and Elynian stalls, whose skin was painted in vivid colours and strange symbols. They sold rare meats or botanicals used in healing like kreppa, iker or myk. Nyna would have never tired of watching the festive, exciting scenery. She had been fascinated by the varieties of different cultures and nationalities since she had been allowed to accompany her mother to the Winter's Market for the first time as a little girl. Ever since then, she dreamt of travelling the Allied Lands or beyond one day.

How her grandmother, mother and sisters were able to happily spend their entire lives in Imardin was beyond her. Needless to say, she was aware that for an ordinary citizen like her – and a _girl_ – the life of an adventurer was unattainable and such a desire foolish. Thus she kept it to herself and had begun to save up what little money she had. Even though she did not tell anybody about her plan she had vowed to herself that one day she would leave Imardin behind and spend the rest of her days travelling. „Hai, Nyna!" From somewhere in the crowd that was steadily becoming denser the girl heard her older sister's stern voice and hastened to return to her family. At least for the time being.

Under her mother's strict supervision she advertised their products until the sun was beginning to set, bathing the white marble buildings of the Inner Circle in crimson light. It was then that, from the corner of her eye, Nyna saw a figure approaching their stall. It was a young woman, barely older then nineteen or twenty. She had straight dark hair and wore a heavy cloak made of a valuable fabric under which her lithe figure almost disappeared. Still, she partook of something Nyna was unable to pinpoint that was distinguishing her from the other people on the street. After a short consideration the woman bought a spice cake soaked with molasses. As she handed Nyna a few coins, their hands touches for a short moment. The young woman's eyes widened in surprise and she smiled.

„What is your name?", she asked with a strange expression in her eyes. „I'm called Nyna, milady." „A beautiful name. Is it Vindo?" „Yes, milady. My great grandmother came from the islands", she replied with her head bowed as she had been taught to behave in the presence of nobles. However, the young woman frowned, reached out and softly raised Nyna's chin to look her in the eye. „You have great dreams, little Nyna. Do not let anybody deter you", she said suddenly. „What–?"

The dark-haired woman smiled, reached into her cloak and extracted a few silver coins she handed Nyna after a quick glance in the direction of her relatives. Nyna stared at her open-mouthed whereupon the Kyralian winked at her and placed a finger on her lips. Before Nyna could thank her for her generosity or to ask her how she knew about her dreams, a shadow fell upon them. A tall man had approached the stall and put his arm around the woman. Like her, he had the dark hair and eyes characteristic of Kyralians and was decidedly handsome.

Also, he wore robes, black robes. A magician! As the young woman became aware of his presence, her eyes lighted up and she relaxed in his embrace. It was plain to see that both liked each other very much. It was only then Nyna saw that the woman was expecting, previously her body had been concealed by the long gown she wore. As she moved the dark fabric parted and revealed black robes, as well. Both of them turned to go and the woman directed a last smile at her. The magician – for she must be one, too – was in the late stages of pregnancy and the man stabilised her while they made their way through the crowd.

„Don't you have any manners, child?" came her mother's brusque voice from behind her. „That was the High Lord and his wife, Lady Sonea! And you didn't even bow! You should be ashamed of yourself! Didn't I tell you how to behave in the presence of magicians again and again? The High Lord visiting my stall! They will never come back here, that is for sure, as rude as…" Her mother took a deep breath to have enough lung capacity for the lecture that followed but Nyna did not listen any longer. Kyralia's saviours! She had met them! The woman, Sonea, must have read her thoughts. She had seemed so nice, quite different from what she had imagined. But that may be accounted for by the fact that she had not been born a noble.

Across Imardin stories were told about the dwell girl and the High Lord who had learned forbidden magic and saved them all in the process. Since the battle less than a year had passed but both of them had become legends already; memorials had been built in their honour, stories were told and songs sung about their deeds. There was no way it was a mere coincidence that Nyna had met them today. It had to mean something. The girl found new hopes as she repeated the magician's words in her head: _Do not let anybody deter you._ One day her name would be spoken with awe in Kyralia too. And until then she would fight for her dreams, no matter what. In her mind she answered the woman although she could not hear her anymore. _I will._


	7. The Ambassador

Behind today's door is a story told from someone else's point of view. It's canon until about the end of book two (such a scene _could_ have happened if Akkarin and Sonea had, well, befriended each other earlier). It is set at the end of book two during the ambassador's visit in the guild. But in this story, he does not come entirely on his own and I've adjusted the season a little…

* * *

 **07\. The Ambassador**

Yawning, Dannyl climbed the stairs to the Magicians' Quarters, looking forward to his warm bed. After today's fight in the arena it had been unusually difficult to get rid of Rothen, who had tried to coax him into having a late dinner in his rooms. Thankfully, Dannyl had managed to put him off until tomorrow evening. The long, debilitating journey to Imardin had exhausted him and he wanted to avoid letting his guard down and unwittingly disclosing what his old mentor should not know of at all costs. Bad enough that he had reason to believe he had unintentionally revealed Akkarin a little _too_ much about his love life during their mental conversation. _But even if he noticed, he did not seem to care_. At least that was what he hoped. He had much to lose. If his secret was exposed, he be stripped of his position as Second Guild Ambassador to Elyne, at the very least. And he shuddered to think of what Rothen would say, if he ever came to know.

Since his departure to Elyne he had not been in his quarters and a strange feeling came over him at the thought of spending a night in his old room again. So much had happened since he had stayed here for the last time. In retrospect he could not bear the thought of living like he had for years. Denying himself, feeling like a stranger among his own people. But since he had met Tayend… The Elyne had turned his world upside down and Dannyl did not want to do without his assistant's company again. Nevertheless, he needed to exercise great care while staying in Imardin. He was still divided on his decision to take Tayend with him, but the young Elyne had been surprisingly persistent. Admittedly, Dannyl had made him promise to act normally in the other magicians' presence and not to let anything show but from time to time Rothen was inconveniently perceptive and Dannyl felt uneasy about letting his former mentor and his companion spend time together.

As he entered his rooms, Tayend was already awaiting him in the living area. „Spill, how did the talk with the High Lord go?" „Surprisingly well. He was satisfied with my research and gave me permission to return to Elyne in a week's time", Dannyl replied and removed the outer part of his robes. Tayend grinned mischievously and uncorked a bottle of wine. „Well, then we should not let this opportunity go to waste and drink to these good news! What better way to bring a trying day to a close than with some Anuren Dark?" Dannyl laughed. „You'd have told me the exact same thing if things hadn't went so well, am I right?" „Possibly", Tayend admitted and poured them each a glass of the dark red liquid. „By the way, why did it take you such a long time until you returned? Did you two talk up until now?", Tayend inquired while he offered one of the glasses to Dannyl and reclined in one of the comfortable armchairs next to the window. „I had begun to fear I would have to return to my own quarters bevor having an opportunity to catch sight of you today. Something tells me, that you Kyralians would find it disconcerting if a magician and his assistant shared a room without good cause."

Dannyl snorted. „Certainly. No, the meeting itself was not overly long, but a duel in the arena took place today. I did not receive the news until shortly before, but one of the opponents is a friend of mine so I could not miss out on this." „Do duels like this happen frequently here?", Tayend asked curiously. „Not really, no. In former times duels were a popular way of resolving disputes except for the one today, the last duel in the guild was years ago. You can imagine what kind of stir it caused as the High Lord's novice, of all people, challenged one of her classmates", Dannyl explained.

„Who won?", Tayend asked, always interested in gossip. „Sonea." „Ah, well, then I deem you have twofold cause for celebration. Cheers!" Dannyl sat down across from him tasted the full-bodied, tangy wine. „How come you're friends with the High Lord's novice", Tayend inquired. „Rothen was her guardian bevor she became Akkarin's protégée", Dannyl explained. Tayend grimaced sympathetically and took a nip of his wine. „That must have been hard on him." "That is putting it mildly. Ever since Akkarin chose her, he has not been himself. He tries hide it, of course, but I can tell there is something nagging at him", Dannyl mused. Tayend stood, stretched and looked out of the window. „What do you think it is that's bothering him?"

Dannyl frowned. „I am not sure. But I guess it is due to the fact that he sees so little of her now. Being the High Lord's novice comes with an expectation of top grades, that leaves little time for anything unrelated to educational matters. He must believe Akkarin took her away from him and – Tayend? Are you even listening?" The blond Elyne made an affirmative sound but it was obvious something was distracting him. „Say, Dannyl – which colour were your High Lord's robes again?" Dannyl shot him an irritated glance. „Why the sudden interest in Akkarin's clothing?" Tayend shrugged. „No reason. Which colour is it?" „Black." „Is that so?", Tayend replied with a strange undertone. „Why does it matter?", Dannyl asked suspiciously. „I can't tell you–" As Dannyl tried to interrupt him, Tayend raised his hands defensively. „It…how shall I put it? It is one of these things that you need to see for yourself to believe them."

„Are you alright? Did you empty that other bottle of all on your own before I came here?", Dannyl asked half serious, half jokingly. „Don't be ridiculous, my dear. Simply put down that glass, stand up and come over." Dannyl sighed and decided that it was easier if he played along. Tayend could be surprisingly stubborn if he wanted something. With a last, longing look towards his glass of wine he stood and went to the window. Questioningly, he looked at Tayend, who raised an eyebrow suggestively and pointed at something beyond the pane. For a moment, Dannyl did not understand what Tayend was referring to. Then he saw it. „What the–? There is no way…" Tayend sniggered. „See?"

Dannyl stood so close to the window his nose touched the glass. It was already dark outside, but the thick blanket of snow covering the ground reflected the moonlight and made it easy to perceive details even from afar. It probably would have escaped a passing view but if one looked closely, there was no doubt. There, only a good dozen feet away, stood the High Lord and his novice. That itself would not have been remarkable, if it were not for the little distance between them. Too little for a mentor and his female novice. They appeared to be talking for Sonea flourished her hands animatedly. Akkarin said something to her and the girl threw her head back, laughing. There was nothing left of the shy novice that had thanked her mentor politely and submissively for his praise this evening after the duel. Gone were the intimidated expression on her face and her respectful restraint in the presence of the Guild's leader.

Interestingly enough, Akkarin did not show the slightest inclination he was about to reprimand her for her inappropriate behaviour. Instead he smiled and touched her hair. Abruptly, the High Lord half-turned and threw a quick glance over his shoulder as if to make sure nobody was watching them. Seeing no one, he closed the distance between them and kissed Sonea full on her mouth. She, on the other hand, did not seem to mind at all. Dannyl gasped, he had paled considerably. „And here I am, believing you Kyralians to be prudish, always so intent on decency and decorum…" Tayend grinned broadly and rubbed his hands. „And that after a single day in Imardin. I cannot wait to spend a whole week here!" „That's not funny, Tayend", Dannyls groaned. „Why me, of all people? Why did I have to be the one to discover the High Lord's secret? Tayend – what if he wants to talk to me again before we leave? How am I supposed to face him without him noticing I know something? I am done for." The ambassador groaned again.

Tayend snickered, unfazed by his lover's emotional turmoil. „The High Lord and his novice. Who would have thought?" „You are utterly unhelpful, you know?" Dannyl had begun pacing nervously. „And Rothen! I completely forgot about him. There is no way I can tell him about this. He might be reasonable under normal conditions, but if concerns people that mean something to him he tends to act without due consideration. He is definitely capable of confronting Akkarin in the middle of the Night Room." At this thought, Dannyl turned green. „Calm down, Dannyl. He does not know we saw him. And if you do not let it show, he won't", Tayend said and patted his lover on the back. „Besides: Judging from what you have told me about Sonea, she seems to be a clever and headstrong young woman. I would be very surprised if someone managed to force her to do something she does not want to." The fair-haired man approached Dannyl and pulled his lover onto the bed with him.

„And now stop worrying. Doubtlessly you will be occupied by your numerous duties as an ambassador tomorrow, which means I will have to do without your company. In the meantime we should definitely seize the moment, don't you think?", Tayend suggested and kissed him softly. Dannyl hesitated but then he nodded. „You are right, as usual. If these two enjoy themselves, we should do the same. The Winter's Feast is just around the corner, after all." Tayend grinned. „How fitting. In Elyne we call it _Kaerlighed_." Dannyl slung an arm around his lover and returned the kiss. „What does that mean?" „Celebration of love."


End file.
